A Stark Stitches a Sever
by KillWithAQuill
Summary: There's a new girl in the Stark camp (that's you, the reader), but she is hiding a dark secret. Can she keep it hidden from the prying eyes of a King? Or will the King of the North, Robb Stark, be able to uncover the truth? *WARNING: DISCUSSION OF SELF-HARM PRESENT IN THIS STORY*
**A STARK STITCHES A SEVER**

I had to do it.

It made me feel better, I felt relieved when I did it. But it's not easy hiding it from prying eyes. And it's certainly no easier to hide it from a King.

I'd joined the Stark camp since running away from King's Landing. It wasn't easy to get away, but somehow I managed it, taking a boat and rowing to the North. I believed the Starks would be just and fair, maybe see beyond my status and see me for the person I was. I was a Northerner at heart, even if I lived in King's Landing most of my life.

I was helping to care for the horses, when the King of the North, Robb Stark himself, made an appearance. I was brushing the mane of one of the horses when I heard murmurs of 'your Grace'. I felt his presence behind me, and I turned to see him there. Tall, dark and handsome, like all the princes in the bedtime stories from when I was a child.

Immediately flustered, I sank into a clumsy curtsy.

"Your Grace," the words tumbled out of my mouth. Robb smiled at me as I turned to continue my work. He came to stand beside me as I carried on brushing the horse's mane.

"Beautiful, isn't she?" Robb asked.

"Yes…" I smiled shyly, "and one of the most well-behaved," I managed to say.

The King smiled at my remark. "I should hope so, she's my horse."

Flustered at Robb's quip, I tried to carry on with my work. I tried to wince my way through the pain in my arm. Robb noticed, and immediately clasped my hand.

"Are you hurt, my lady?"

I turned to him with a sad smile. "I am no lady, your grace," I said mournfully.

He gently took his hand away, and noticed a tiny spot of blood on his riding glove. He retook my hand.

"Come with me," he said.

Now, there's no point trying to argue with the King of the North. He led me into one of the tents. There was a large map for planning battles in the centre. Robb's mother, Catelyn Stark, was sat reading a parchment, presumably from a raven. She looked up as Robb sat me down and fetched some cloth. Robb took his riding gloves off and sat down opposite me, holding out his hand.

"Let me see your arm," he said gently. I had it clutched against my stomach, partially to stave the pain, partially out of fear.

I bit my lip, flinching in pain, looking down. Robb bent his head down a little, trying to make eye contact with me.

"Can I see your arm? I want to help."

I looked up at him. "But why do you want to help me, your Grace? Whoever thought of it, a King nursing the wound of a…" I searched for the word. "A _peasant_? I should be the one nursing you when you're hurt, not the other way around. I'm sorry, your grace."

I tried in vain to hold back tears in my eyes. Robb took my hand and gently pulled his hand closer to me, exposing the cut on my arm. Catelyn looked up from her parchment and stood when I spoke.

There were a number of little scars on my arm, but only this one wound was fresher. Robb cradled my arm with his hand and pressed the cloth against my cut. I hissed in pain. Upon hearing my reaction, Catelyn came over and watched her son and I.

"I apologise, my lady," Robb said sympathetically.

"I said before, your grace, I am no lady."

Robb looked up at me and right into my eyes. "What do they call you?"

"My name is (Y/N)."

"That's a beautiful name," Robb smiled. "Where do you come from?"

"I ran from King's Landing."

"I meant where were you born?"

"Oh, beg pardon, your grace," I flustered. "I was born in the North, but my family moved to King's Landing when I was a baby. My sister was to marry this Lord, I don't know his name. As I grew up, it became clear this Lord was cruel to her. I didn't want to marry a cruel man. And I hated King's Landing; I wanted to return to the North. I stole a boat and rowed. I saw the banners, and felt like I was home."

Robb and Catelyn listened intently to my story before taking more cloth and wrapping it around the wound. His fingers ran against the smaller nicks in my skin. Catelyn saw the smaller nicks in my arm and proceeded to question me.

"Who did this to you?" she asked.

I hung my head in shame.

"Don't be ashamed to tell us, we won't hurt you," she urged. "I swear it on my honour as a Tully and my honour as a Stark."

I smiled weakly. I didn't dare give a name, even with Catelyn's warm presence. Catelyn reminded me of my own mother, but God knows where she was now.

"Was it someone at King's Landing?"

I nodded. "Yes."

Robb finished wrapping the wound up and tucked the end of the cloth in.

"Listen, if you want to tell us, we won't pass judgement. It's not your fault."

I swallowed. "It was… It was…"

Catelyn's hand rubbed my back. "Just take your time."

I sighed. "The King ordered it. One of his guardsmen did it."

Catelyn and Robb stared at each other before looking at me.

"King Joffrey?" Robb asked.

I stared him dead in the eye. "Yes. It was him. He said that I should be punished. But he was cowardly, and said ordered one of the guards to do it."

Robb looked back at his mother before turning to me.

"That's why I was scared to tell you, your grace. I ran away from King's Landing because of him. He struck some kind of fear into me… Gave me the impression that the role of a King is to look down on peasants. That's why I was shocked when you offered to help me. I've spent a long time believing I was worthless, thanks to Joffrey. But the cut you just wrapped… That wasn't Joffrey. That wasn't his guards. That was _me._ "

Robb was shocked. "You did this to yourself?"

I nodded with tears in my eyes. "Yes, your grace. I believe Joffrey struck some kind of fear into me, and I carried on believing that my punishment wasn't over. I always felt uneasy when he passed me. One time he spat at me, right here," I indicated to my cheek. "I've never been able to trust kings since."

Robb placed a hand against my cheek, his thumb running against my skin.

"I, Robb Stark, King of the North, declare your punishment to be over."

I smiled sadly.

"I understand. A lot of people think you've met one King, you've met them all. But there's more than one King. Joffrey Baratheon is cruel, selfish and heartless, he doesn't care about the people, as long as he is content. But I am not Joffrey Baratheon. I am Robb Stark. I care about my people, regardless of whether they are highborn or not. You told me you were no lady, (Y/N), but you look like a lady to me. You have a gentle heart, you work hard… Joffrey never saw that in you. But I see it."

"You mean that?"

"Yes, I do, (Y/N), I swear it by the Old Gods and the New."

"We will make Joffrey pay for what he has done to you," Catelyn said.

"The North always remembers," Robb added.

"Of course," I smiled. "The North remembers."

Robb's hands flew to my face, circling it in a firm but tender hold. He leant forward and kissed my cheek, his lips warm against my skin. I felt the pain of Joffrey Baratheon melt away, being replaced by the warmth of Robb Stark.

"Joffrey had better be ready," I said a little more confidently.

"Ready for what?" Robb questioned.

I smiled as I looked at him.

"Winter is coming."


End file.
